I seem to be on some mission to disable my right hand. We won't even count the cat bite from 5 years ago that left my right index finger in a permanent come-hither crook. This round started at Thanksgiving when I sliced my thumb to ribbons on the food processor blade. That finally healed after a long period of tenderness whenever I touched something. Then last night I ran across an old photo of my grandparents when I was cleaning out a drawer in my dresser.
When I acquired the photo, it was in a putrid frame, so I had intended to take it out and put it in my family notebooks. Alas, age and East Texas humidity had glued it permanently to the glass. I discarded the tacky frame and had stuck the remainder in my dresser drawer, intending to ponder how I was going to remove the photo from the glass without damaging it.
I realized last night when I found it that my solution would have to be to try and scan the photo through the glass. So I headed downstairs to see how well that would work. On the way, I shifted the thing in my hand and caught my right middle finger on the edge of the glass and sliced the tip end. Again I had the bleeding and the bandaging, though not nearly as severe as the thumb had been. It's sore and I'm stuck with wearing a band-aid for a few days, but it could be worse. (The picture, by the way, scanned very well.)
This morning I was headed out to pay the property taxes and then make a jaunt down to San Marcos to do a little courthouse work. As I was getting in the car, I decided I needed to go back in the house and double check the day of an appointment I had made for this week. Getting out of the car to go back in the house, I caught my right little finger on the car door frame and jammed it but good.
It took several hours to be sure, but it now appears that I've done no lasting damage to my pinky. It hurt like fury for about 30 minutes, but it's all better now.
The day was a mixed success, but on the whole went well. I got back to the house early enough to take the dogs on a jaunt in the woods down their favorite walk along a forgotten (except for the ATVers) backwoods dirt road. They can run off leash back there and pretend they are coyotes out on the hunt. Coco and I, being fastidious ladies, avoided all the reddish mud, but Mojo. being a healthy American boy, happily splashed through the puddles and acquired four red feet that will have to be scrubbed before bedtime. The funniest of his escapades was backing up to a clump of grass and standing on tippy-toes to make a deposit in the very top of it. He's my boy.
I think I will use my hurt finger as an excuse to avoid cooking tonight. There's a silver lining in every cloud.